To Sleepwalk Through Shadow
by Zennith6
Summary: Harry Potter lost himself through the fortunes of war. Now he sets out to find his way home and finds much more than he's bargained for - a land he'd never known and a world that throws into question every truth he's ever understood. HP/Amber crossover.
1. Chapter 1

So, I've never seen this crossover before. I must be crazy to be starting another fic, but hey, it happens sometimes that you can't help yourself.

This is a crossover between Harry Potter and the Amber series by Roger Zelazney. I've never seen it done before, and wanted to give it a whirl. Having read that, though, won't be a necessity for understanding this fic.  
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**To Sleepwalk through Shadow**

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I thought it would hurt more. I suppose the branches must have slowed my fall.

With a low groan I rolled over on to my back, my gaze directed skyward in search of my pursuers. But the forest was dark, there was little moonlight to speak of, and I could not see them.

All I could do was hope that they couldn't see me either.

I struggled to my feet, testing my legs to ensure that they could still bear my weight. I breathed a sigh of relief as I took a slow, halting step forward. My relief turned quickly to despair when, as I stood, I spotted what remained of my broom, my Firebolt. It lay on the ground, snapped cleanly in two despite the protective charms that had adorned it. It really had been a tremendous fall, I was lucky to be alive.

But I couldn't stay still. I had to move. It would only be a matter of time until they spotted me – the forest was dense, but I knew that if they flew over at just the right angle they would see me, and I couldn't take that chance. I couldn't take three of them, not in this state. I could only hope that somehow I would come across something familiar, or perhaps that Dumbledore or Tonks or somebody would find me. They were all there; they'd have to notice I was missing. They'd come looking. I tried not to admit to myself that they'd have no idea where to start the search.

I took a second step forward and my left leg nearly buckled. I looked and saw a tear in my jeans; blood was clearly running down my calf. It was strange – for all that I could see the wound seemed deep, and yet I could barely feel it. I was barely more than numb.

Resolved, though, I pushed myself onwards step by step. Not that I knew where I was going. While I'd been flying, away from Hogsmeade and over the forest, I'd been much more considered with simply evading the three death eaters pursuing me – direction had come second. And when I'd fallen, when I'd been struck, any sense of direction I'd maintained had deserted me entirely. The air was brisk and a chill swept through my bones with every gust of wind that rattled the leaves of the great sycamore trees. I could only hope that the clouds that threatened overhead wouldn't empty themselves upon the earth. I could only deal with so much.

As I continued walking through the waning hours of the night, images from the Death Eater's attack on Hogsmeade flickered through my head. It'd been chaos. That was the only term for it. Nobody had seen them coming, the Hogsmeade weekend had been waning for the students – ironically I'd been talking with Ron and Hermione that very morning about how quiet things had been lately. I'd been uneasy.

I was right to be.

In the end, I had to flee. In something that called back memories of my fourth year in the Tournament, I'd summoned my broom and prayed I'd survive long enough to retrieve it. I'd been separated from the rest of the students, even Ron and Hermione, through what I was starting to believe had actually been a planned situation. It was me they were after.

It was always me.

But once I'd gotten a hold, once I'd kicked off, there weren't many of them who could keep up with me. In clear skies and in a good frame of mind nobody could have caught me. But I was distracted – I'd seen bodies littering the streets of Hogsmeade, and I couldn't catch my bearings. The weather was harsh, which didn't help the situation in the slightest.

The only saving grace I can spot is that I didn't lose my wand in the fall.

And as I thought that the clouds opened up above me with a thundering crash and cold, harsh rain began to pound mercilessly on my shoulders. I continued to stumble forward, merely hoping more than anything else that I'd find some sense of direction, some place that might give me a hint of how to go home.

I wasn't sure what to do, though, even if I made it that far. Death Eaters could still be in the vicinity. It was dangerous, and I didn't want to consider what might occur if I were caught in this state. I wouldn't even be able to mount a token resistance against a fighter like Lestrange.

But stopping wasn't an option. Turning around wasn't an option. I tried to keep a few spells on the tip of my tongue, one in particular stood out to me, a handwritten scrawl of a spell – _Sectumsempra _– for enemies. I could feel it ready on my lips, not knowing the brunt, but the prince had yet to let me down. And there were enemies out there. I had to be ready.

Cold, though. With the rain sliding down my skin, bangs plastered to my forehead, I could barely see where I was going. Each step wore me down a little bit more.

I couldn't say how long I walked. In truth, I have no idea.

It felt like days, though. Probably not so long as that, but in my state the passage of time didn't mean much to me. The spindly roots of the grand and aging trees continued to brush up against my feet, and the going was rough. My gait was stumbling at best, the blood from my leg continued to flow, I began to feel more than a little woozy.

God, I'd never felt so exhausted, never felt so helpless. Lost in the woods – what a ridiculous way for the Boy-Who-Lived to go out. Not even in a struggle with wild magical creatures, just a boy who succumbed to the natural elements, to the cold and the wind and the rain.

I just wished, I just hoped… I needed more than anything for the rain to stop, for the sun… for the morning to be… for there to be something I could grasp on to.

To my right were several shrubs surrounding a giant tree that dwarfed those around it… around the next turn to my left was a small slab, the pitter patter of rain falling on the shiny surface felt almost soothing. I could feel, as I took several more steps, that the rain which had once been falling heavily had been reduced to a light spatter.

Several more shuffling, stumbling steps forward… the rain stopped all together. Another step, I almost tripped, but regained my balance. My left leg was throbbing and I couldn't feel my fingers, but I had to move, had to keep going, had no other choice.

I felt faint.

Faint was an understatement.

I turned on to what appeared to be a path which had started several meters to my right before drifting closer and closer… rough sand strewn through the dense fog filling the spaces between the trees… I managed up a burst of speed, feeling a moment of fire in my gut – in front of me a clearing loomed, maybe a quarter kilometer, I could see it and the trees were beginning to spread apart.

I looked to my side… high ground loomed above me, a cliff growing out of the ground almost as if from nothing. It began to dry… the clouds lightened and the falling rain slowed to a stop…

A falling star above me, and the moon came out in full… bright almost like the sun, but pure white.

The clearing, and then it passed… more woods, but different somehow, the trees shorter and more squat, fewer of them… somehow far more ancient, I thought, I noticed leaves far wider and flatter than any I'd seen in the vicinity of the grounds.

I had no idea where I was.

And more changes. A riversmell around me, as if a trickling brook was running beside me. The sandy path widened through the wood… a howling about me, what could have been a wolf – or a werewolf – I heard it behind me, from far away, growing more and more distant with my steps.

My head, though, kept pounding. The gradual change of my surroundings was mirrored by a growing headache, the one pain I hadn't been feeling up until that point.

The trees faded away… the widening path leading out onto what seemed a flat plain… high blades of grass, dandelions blowing in the glow of the moon, whips of wind flitting about my shoulders, I pulled my cloak tight around my shoulders. It was still incredibly cold, but I couldn't help feel a bit of comfort. An odd thought about Petunia and prize winning lawns flickered through my head before disappearing into the void from which it came. A bit of comfort, still.

That comfort was short lived, though. The howling returned, in numbers this time more than three – and nearer too. I quickened my limping gait. I didn't know what was happening around me, where I was – it seemed things were changing more quickly than they should, but I didn't want to wait to ponder the question.

Howling again. Again, behind me and now to my right. Surrounding me? I worried, my wand grasped tightly between my fingers.

I walked for what felt like ten minutes more, before my leg finally gave in and I tumbled hard to the tall grass. I rolled with the fall and found myself on my back, breathing quick, shallow breaths, trying to catch up. Where the hell was I?

A moment passed in quiet. The clouds had passed entirely. Stars shone brightly, night was in the thick of things, and I wondered what I would do next. What would I do next?

The question was answered for me. Howling, right in my ear, I swiveled on my side my wand flashing up as what appeared to be a large, somewhat deformed and pure white relative of a wolf leapt towards me, teeth bared.

I aimed my wand but had no time; the wolf-like thing was already upon me. I put up my hands instinctively and ended up rolling with the beast's momentum, the jaws of the thing were huge and I couldn't help but notice the wolf's eyes, blood red and chilling. The momentum faded and it was on top of me, ready to strike. My wand had clattered to the side and lay useless. I didn't have any options.

At least it wasn't the wind that would kill me, I thought morbidly. A chuckle almost managed to escape my throat as I braced myself for death.

It didn't come.

There was a sharp twang from the side and the wolf-thing's weight fell limp upon my body, expelling the breath from my chest and lungs. I pushed and tried to roll. The thing was heavy, at least twice my own weight. I managed, finally to slip out from under it and came roughly to my knees.

My veins were throbbing, my head pounding. I'd been so near death… I looked up to my savior – he stood maybe twenty paces away, a tall but lithely built man sporting a thick but neatly trimmed beard, his stature projected something almost regal. His face, though, seemed young with flashing eyes, he couldn't have been much older than twenty-five. The main thing I noticed, though, was the ornate but clearly deadly bow that he held taut in his hands, a second arrow knocked and pointed towards the beast.

A moment passed before the man sighed and pulled the arrow from the string, content that the beast was quite dead. And then he spoke in a rich but pleasing baritone,

"Don't usually see them act so brazenly. Are you hurt?"

I could only nod before the strain of the evening fell heavily on my shoulders, my knees could no longer hold me and I collapsed to the ground, not even managing a response before the fog overtook my mind and I knew no more.

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The sheets were crisp. That was the first thing I noticed when I woke.

The second thing I noticed was that I was not alone. Lying on my side I could see the girl when I opened my eyes, a bit blurry without my glasses, but there she was. She looked at me with wide, chocolate brown eyes. Her hair was dark, almost black, and her face was sweet and young, rounded. She couldn't have been much older than me.

The third thing I noticed was that I was completely and utterly naked underneath the sheets that covered me. Before I had the chance to comment on this the girl was already speaking.

"You're awake! Are you okay?"

I nodded slightly. "I guess. Uh, slightly awkward question, what happened to my clothes?"

The girl blushed lightly. "When you got here you were cold, your clothes were wet. Didn't have any other options. Don't worry thought, I mean, what I mean is that I wasn't the one…"

She trailed off and I couldn't help but chuckle at the expression on her face, despite everything.

"Don't worry," I said, "It's okay. Where am I?"

She looked at me oddly. "You don't know?"

I could only shake my head.

She shrugged. "The place is called Lorraine. I've lived here for years. Where are you from that you don't know where you are now?"

I almost didn't know how to respond. "London, I suppose. Or thereabouts. I was… wandering, didn't really mean to end up here."

She looked at me quizzically. "Huh. Never heard of it. What happened to you, by the way? You said wandering."

Again, I didn't know how to respond. Was she a muggle? Also, I'd never heard of Lorraine, nothing about this place was familiar. I tried to be safe, and nodded.

"Yeah, wandering. I was trying to figure a few things out, ended up lost and caught in the storm that came through last night. Really cold, just got lucky I ended up here."

It was then that I fully remembered how I'd wound up where I was. The man who'd slain the wolf-thing, he must have saved me.

"How'd I end up _here_, by the way? I mean in this house, with a girl I don't know staring at me when I wake?"

She smiled lightly. "Well, Martin, of course."

I raised an eyebrow. "Martin?"

She nodded.

"The guy who saved me from the wolf?"

"He didn't say anything about that," she shrugged, "but it sounds like something he'd do."

I sighed and sat up in the bed, careful to keep the sheets wrapped tightly around my waist. "But who is he? Like, why was he out in the middle of the night with a giant bow in the first place?"

She shrugged.

"You do that a lot." I noted.

She grinned and shrugged again before standing smoothly from the white armchair in which she had been perched. "You seem hungry. Want some breakfast?"

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's almost noon. You've been asleep for more than a day! I know I'd be starving. I'll be right back."

"Wait," I said, stopping her near the door, "what's your name?"

She smiled at me for real this time. "Dara. After my mother. And yours?"

I smiled in return. "Harry. Harry Potter."

She nodded, no sign of recognition as she swept out of the room, leaving the door just slightly ajar behind her.

I fell back on to the soft white mattress and ran a hand through my hair. It felt like I'd been hit by a train and amemory charm at the same time. This place, Lorraine, didn't sound like anywhere I'd ever heard of. No idea if they're muggles or wizards, no clue where my clothes…

And then it hit me. My wand. What had happened to my wand? I'd lost it against the wolf-thing, all I could hope for was that Martin had picked it up. Or at the very least, that he'd be willing to bring me back to that spot so I could search for it. I clenched and released my hands, I was truly anxious.

How could I have slept for over a day? Everyone would be looking for me; they'll think I've been captured by Voldemort or even killed! But how could I reach them? I had no real options. And my leg still felt sore, although as I moved it around I could tell that it had certainly been tended to.

The truth was that, at that moment, the only thing that really appealed to me was the thought sinking back down into the soft down pillows and falling back into a deep restful sleep.

But I couldn't do that. I spied my glasses on the nightstand beside the bed and swiftly put them back on, glad to see the small but homey room come clearly into focus. I would have stood, having made the decision that I had to take some action, even if I didn't know what, but without clothes I didn't really have that option.

"Hey, could you bring me my clothes on the way back?" I shouted out so that Dara could hopefully hear me. I was startled when her head poked back in to the room.

"Oh, you don't want to walk around naked? I suppose not. Sure, I'll grab them for you. We had them washed and everything."

I smiled as she popped away, and began to ponder just what my action would be. This man, Martin – he'd saved me, and he might have seen me stumble out of the wood. There'd been something… regal about him. Maybe he could help. In any case, the man was the only lead he had besides Dara, who didn't seem to have any familiarity with London and hadn't even recognized him. Harry usually wouldn't complain, but now it would be reassuring.

Just where exactly was he that they'd never heard of London?

Dara came back in to the room, a bundle of clothing held in her arms. She dumped them on Harry's lap and smiled before walking out again, speaking as she went.

"I'll give you some privacy to change, you can eat at the table like a proper person after you get dressed."

I had to admit, as I dressed, that the prospect of food did appeal to me. But when I checked my pockets and no wand could be found, all thoughts of food fled from my mind.

I strode out of the room and into the adjacent room, which happened to contain a table with two plates of eggs and bacon set out. Dara was in the midst of pouring glasses water for her and me. She looked up at me and gestured for me to sit at the table. I walked gingerly to the chair and sat. She took her place opposite me around the square table.

"By any chance was there anything else with me when I was… deposited here?"

Dara shook her head. "Sorry, just the clothes. Was there something you were looking for? Did you lose something?"

I nodded, but tried to shrug it off. "It isn't a big deal, don't worry." I said mostly to sooth myself.

Dara nodded and began to eat.

I looked at the plate, which did truly look appetizing, but couldn't focus. Finally, I looked up at her.

"I didn't thank you for taking me in."

Her brown eyes caught mine. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad to help."

"Really, though, I truly appreciate it. You helped save my life. I have to be greatful."

She shook her head. "I didn't do all that, just gave you a place to stay. Martin would be the one to thank."

I nodded. "Where is he?"

Dara cocked her head to the side. "I really don't know. He doesn't live here, or even in the area. He just stops by every now and again. Lorraine was a meaningful place for his uncle, and so he likes to come by. I've also known him for many years, I think he likes to check on me. Never seems to think that I can take care of myself."

I smiled at that. "Can you?"

The girl shot me a glare and I laughed. "Is there any way I can get in contact with him? I'd really like to thank him, also ask him a question or two."

Dara shook her head. "Nothing that I can think of. He might be out hunting, but I wouldn't advise you to go out on your own just yet. You really did a number on your leg. Just wait, maybe he'll come back soon. He's probably still in the area, after all."

I frowned. With my luck I'd never find him.

"Thanks anyway," I sighed as I turned to the plate in front of me and began to dig in.

After the meal, Dara had retired to her room for a moment. She said she had a letter to write, and had left me to explore a bit.

The house itself was rather large, although a bit sparse. The room I'd been sleeping in was clearly the smallest of the lot, there were three other bedrooms along with a dining room, living room, a study and a library. I found myself wandering into the Library after a perfunctory look about the place. At least in the library there might be books or something that could give me a hint as to my surroundings, some sort of local history perhaps.

After several minutes of searching I'd pulled down a book that seemed to be a history of some sort of war, but I could only flip through casually. My mind was elsewhere. As I went to reshelve the book I spotted a pack of cards up on one of the shelves nearby. The case was glass, almost reflective, and there seemed to be far too few to constitute a typical full deck.

Out of curiosity, I took the cards and sat down at the desk that stood in the center of the room. I gingerly removed the case, so as not to damage it, and began sifting through the cards.

And, for sure, they were no ordinary cards. They all bore much more in the way of strength and weight, but the major distinction was that they had no numbers; they were not playing cards at all. Instead they seemed portraits of men and women, all strong seeming and adorned in ornate regalia.

The first portrait was of a man, tall and broad shouldered, with a fine goatee and piercing blue eyes. He was clearly a man of power. I sifted to the next card and saw a man, read haired and wiry, with a sort of longing about him – he was certainly smaller than the previous man, although he bore some resemblance.

And then there was the third card. I nearly dropped the deck upon spying it. There, in front of me, was a picture of the man Dara called Martin. I was sure of it. His beard, his eyes, even the way he carried himself was all the same. I closed my eyes and focused on the man in my mind, trying to picture his resemblance to the previous men, when suddenly the card grew cold in my hand. Again, I almost let go, but managed to keep hold of the card in the face of the odd phenomenon.

And then, a voice came almost through the card in Martin's strong baritone,

"Who is it?"

This time I dropped the card.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

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I looked at the card, the portrait of Martin that was now lying static on the floor in front of me. I'd heard his voice, I was sure of it. The portrait itself had seemed to come to life – almost as if the man had been reaching out from the card itself to speak with him. It could only be one thing.

Magic.

But I'd never heard of a communication device quite like this one. And so, tentatively, I bent down to pick up the card from the musty floor of the Dara's library. But before I could grasp the card between my fingers I heard the woman's voice behind me.

"Harry?"

I stood up sharply and turned to face her. I noticed her glaze flicker across the desk where I'd deposited the rest of the deck before returning to my face. For some reason it felt like I'd done something wrong, although she'd not given me any boundaries during our conversation earlier.

A moment passed and Dara spoke again, "Harry? What were you doing?"

I shrugged. "Nothing really. Just looking about your library. It's quite nice, really. I don't recognize most of these books."

Dara raised an eyebrow. "Really? There are some pretty well known classics in there. Surprised you haven't read them."

I nodded slightly, not really sure how to respond. "I guess I must have missed them."

An awkward silence fell for a moment. My eyes darted to the case of cards inadvertently, and then jumped back to the woman's face. She was studying me intently.

"You were looking at the trumps?" She asked cautiously.

I looked at the deck. "Those cards? Sure. They're very distinctive."

Dara smiled at that. "True enough."

Suddenly Dara cocked her head to the side. I watched as she became distracted and dropped our conversation entirely. Probably ten seconds passed that way before she finally nodded and spoke aloud,

"Sure, come on through."

She reached out a hand and suddenly, as if from nothing, a larger hand took hers and seemed to be pulled through into the space. And suddenly Martin stood before me.

I took a nervous step back. This was magic, that much was obvious. But once again it was a sort of magic I'd never seen before, that I had no experience with. And I began to wish more fervently that my wand was stashed safely in my pocket. They'd meant no harm so far, but I of all people knew how quickly that could change.

But Martin smiled as he saw me and I began to relax.

"You contacted me?"

I nodded slightly. "I suppose I must have. I saw the card –"

"Trump." Dara interjected.

I nodded again and continued, "Right, well, I saw the deck of trumps that looked different – I was looking through them when I came to the picture of you. I'm still not sure how I actually made contact, I didn't particularly mean to."

Martin stepped passed me and lifted his own portrait off the ground and held it out to me. I took it and gave it a look while Martin spoke.

"The Trumps are our means of communication and transportation. If you gaze upon one and carry the image of that person solidly in your mind, a connection will be formed and conversation can be had. Once you break connection in your mind or with the card in the physical world the communication will be broken."

I handed the Trump back to Martin thoughtfully. "That makes sense, I suppose. I was picturing you while holding the Trump. That must have forged the connection."

The man nodded. "Exactly. Incidentally, I'm glad to see you up and well. You were in some pretty rough shape when I found you."

My mouth twisted into a grimace as I recalled those events. "I'm very thankful you appeared. I'm not sure I would have made it without you."

Martin shrugged. "Not to worry. I couldn't very well just leave you."

"Still, though, you have my gratitude."

The broad shouldered man held out his hand to me and I took it.

"You can call me Martin," he said in his rich baritone.

I smiled. "Harry's my name. Harry Potter."

Martin let go of my hand and took a step back. "Nice to meet you, Harry."

He turned to Dara. "I have a few things to speak with you about, if you could possibly make time."

I watched as the woman nodded slightly.

"Certainly," she answered, "would you like to talk now?"

Martin shrugged. "As good a time as any, I suppose."

The two started to turn, but I interrupted, "Martin, is there any chance I could ask one more favor of you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what would that favor be?"

I spoke cautiously. Obviously these people had some sort of magic, but there'd been no sign of a wand on either of them, and Martin had been hunting using a bow. I wanted to remain as… prudent as possible when it came to disclosing my wand and magic. Mad-Eye's refrain of CONSTANT VIGILANCE floated through my mind.

"I was wondering if you could bring me to the place where you found me, where you rescued me."

The man's brow furrowed. "Whatever for?"

"There was something, I had it while I was out there, but it doesn't seem to have made it back with me here. I think it must have fallen when that wolf-thing tackled me."

Martin shook his head. "You'll need some luck to find anything in that grass, but I'll bring you there if you really want to look." He turned to Dara, "Will you be going anywhere in the next few hours?"

Dara shook her head.

"Good. I'll be back to talk with you then. Harry, grab a coat or something warm. The weather's a bit rough."

I forced myself to smile, trying to quell the anxiousness I felt about my wand, and grabbed the coat that Dara proffered for me.

"Thanks," I muttered, and followed Martin out the door.

We walked for a while. It must have been at least an hour. I tried my best to take note of the path we were taking, trying to memorize it. Martin led with long, measured strides that were difficult for me to keep pace with. The man was clearly in better shape than I, and each step proved it. We traded a few brief snippets of conversation at the start of the walk, but our trip had quickly descended into silence. That is, until Martin asked a quick question of me.

"So Harry," he asked almost casually, "where do you hail from?"

No harm in telling him that. After all, I was curious to see if there'd be any recognition.

"I come from a little town near to London."

"Oh? And where would London be near to?"

I sighed inwardly. "You've never heard of it?"

Martin shrugged. "Sounds a little bit familiar, I suppose. I can't place how I'd know it, though."

"London. A very, very large city. It's a part of the United Kingdom…"

Martin stopped for a moment and I nearly ran into him from behind. He thought for a moment. "The United Kingdom? Suppose I may know it, if only from stories."

Was he humoring me? I couldn't tell. And soon after that our walk became silent once more.

And after it seemed like we'd been walking almost aimlessly, Martin suddenly stopped.

"Here." He said brusquely.

I looked around at the clearing, the long grass and the forest looming on the horizon – this was the place, that much was certain.

Martin looked around. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't see anything."

"You wouldn't." I muttered. "It isn't big. Just give me a few moments."

I scanned the tall grasses intently, searching for that amber-brown stick that gave me power. Martin looked half-heartedly, he was clearly of the opinion that we were on a fool's errand.

I looked for fifteen minutes to no avail. Martin had retired to about a dozen paces away and seemed to be having an animated conversation with the air. I assumed he was on a Trump call, and continued to look.

Part of me was beginning to lose hope, but I couldn't give up. I needed my wand more than I'd needed anything before.

On a whim, I muttered, "_Accio Wand_." I felt a tingle and held my breath, but nothing came. Bolstered, though, by the fact that I'd felt _something_, I began to wander around the area muttering "_Accio_" under my breath.

And just when I was beginning to feel it was useless, I let out a frustrated breath and growled the summoning spell one more time.

And there it was. My wand smacked into my palm and my fingers curled around it instinctively as I felt a rush of energy surge up my arm. It could have been my imagination, sure, but it felt good.

I stood up fully and turned to Martin, who was still distracted. I walked over to him with a decision forming in my mind and the man turned his attention more fully to me.

"Did you find it?" he asked softly.

I shook my head and shrugged. "No. Giving up."

Martin sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. Was it something important?"

I gave him a look. "Only to me. Sentimental value, I guess."

.

* * *

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Back at Dara's I settled in and began to ponder just how I was going to get home. Martin had heard of London, maybe, but had certainly never been there. Dara had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned the place.

And getting home, finding out what had happened after the attack wasn't even the only thing on my mind. In truth, I felt almost like I was on a holiday – this world I was in didn't seem quite… normal. The Trumps, for one thing. I wished I'd pressed Martin for more information, but he'd vanished almost as soon as he'd dropped me at Dara's. I felt this was odd, given that he'd been intending on speaking with her upon his return, but something more pressing must have come up.

I couldn't help but feel that the Trump method of communication could be very useful back at Hogwarts and for the order.

And the anxiousness continued to build. I couldn't just be out here doing nothing, especially now that I had my wand. I had to get back, I had to help! I couldn't help but worry; imagine the worst. Imagine that Hogwarts had fallen in my absence. Voldemort was growing bolder by the day. I had to get back, I had to.

I rolled my newly recovered wand between my fingers and realized that I couldn't just stay there. I couldn't just wait and hope for a miracle. I had to leave; I had to try to find my way home. Home to Hogwarts.

Dara wouldn't just let me go, I didn't think. Or maybe she might. But either way, I couldn't wait around to see how she'd respond. I suddenly felt time press upon me, the urgency of the situation was starting to hit home more fully.

I stood up from the bed I'd been splayed out upon and went to the window. Luckily the house was only one story, and I was able to smoothly open the window and drop out on to the soft grass outside. It was very nearly night but I couldn't let that stop me. Not when so many others depended on me, and were likely out looking for me and putting themselves at risk in the meantime.

And so I walked. I tried to remember the way Martin had lead me, and I even tried to match his stride. I remembered the path we'd taken, how it twisted and turned… how we'd left the path and followed into a clearing that skirted a marsh…

I remembered a large and gnarled tree that marked where I'd make my next turn… It materialized in front of me, I turned to face the hill that I remembered would lie next to it, and there it was…

A few more steps, a few more turns, and I found myself back, back in the clearing. It had been faster, it felt, than with martin. Although that could have been because my mind was more occupied this time around, I'd had nobody to follow but my own instincts.

So there I was. I'd gotten back to this point, but from here had only the vague and fragmented memories of my flight – a flight that had taken me a seemingly impossible distance from Hogwarts.

But there was nothing for it. I had to go forward; I had to try to retrace my steps. With a sigh I looked up at the forest that loomed before me in the darkness and began to walk once more.

Several hours passed in what seemed like a fruitless traveling. I had no idea where I was, and the forest was dense. Eventually, after tripping over countless roots and brushing aside thorny branches, I stumbled once more into a clearing, albeit one clearly different from the sight of my assault – the grass was almost luminescent; it shone brightly in the moonlight. The clearing was circled on all sides by the forest, instead of opening up into the plains that had defined the previous spot.

There was one similarity, though. I swiftly drew my wand and aimed it at the scene that was laid out before me.

There was a girl; young, younger even than a first year. Her blond hair was splayed out on the ground, her eyes were closed – a trickle of blood was flowing freely from a gash in the girl's forehead.

I took a cautious step forward. The girl was still breathing. She had been placed directly in the center of a small circle of mushrooms that was spotted directly in the center of clearing. I looked around – the girl had been attacked, but her assailant was nowhere in sight.

The scene was calm, and there was no wind to speak of. I came to the outskirts of the circle and went to step over the barrier of mushrooms when something grabbed me from behind, something strong. I shouted, but couldn't prevent myself from being thrown violently through the air.

I hit the ground hard, it was only the softness of the grass the prevented me from being seriously hurt. I grabbed my wand and stood to face my assailant.

And then I stopped. It wasn't a man that stood before me, not at all. It was a beast – with legs like a horse on its hind legs, the body of a man, and the face of a goat. It towered above me, at least seven feet tall, red eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Instinctively I took a step backward and it made a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Before I could even speak the beast lowered its horned head and charged in my direction.

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The beast came quickly, cloven hooves pounding over the soft earth. I could do little but dive to the side as it swept just passed me, the speed of the thing was incredible.

Rolling over, I brandished my wand in the thing's direction as it turned to charge again. I shouted _"Stupefy!"_ and a jet of light leapt from the tip of my wand struck the beast squarely in the chest. It slowed for a moment, almost stumbling before it regained its footing. I couldn't wait, and indeed the beast had not fallen to the ground unconscious. Truthfully, the thing merely seemed annoyed. I started to sweat.

"Hey, you know," I shouted to the thing, "I don't even know what we're arguing about."

The great beast before me almost shrugged before stamping the ground with its hoof in a clear challenge. I could not help but notice the girl surrounded by the ring of mushrooms, lying unconscious, I realized I couldn't just waste time surviving. I had to get to her, I had to try and help.

With a shout I attacked, preempting another charge from the goat-man. With a slash of my wand I muttered "_Diffindo" _and watched as the severing charm struck it in the abdomen, drawing a long line in red across its torso. The beast howled, rearing back before it thundered once again towards me.

"This is getting really old," I thought to myself as I once more faced down the monster hurdling towards me at an impressive speed. The beast let loose a long and low growl as it raced in my direction.

I ran. Not away from the thing, not entirely, but towards the line of trees where it would be harder for the thing to get a running start. Just as I'd begun to do so I realized the ridiculousness of the strategy. There was no chance I could outrun the thing, even if I was closer to the trees than it was to me. I stopped and attempted to dive out of the way a second time, to the side, but the thing wasn't fooled. As I leapt it grabbed me with massive arms and tossed me high into the air as if I weighed no more than a quaffle.

To an ordinary muggle this probably would have been fatal. As it was, I was able to cast a cushioning charm on the ground just before making contact, sparing me the worst of the damage that could have occurred. Before it could do anything more I raised my wand and silently cast the first spell that came to mind.

_For enemies._

The beast fell to the ground, blood pouring generously from the wound in its chest. I could not bring myself to smile, all I could do was sigh heavily in relief.

After a moment I remembered myself, and I dashed over to where the girl was laid out. I stepped over the curve of mushrooms and in to the circle, and when I did I felt a small spark – as if I was crossing over some sort of barrier than didn't resist, all it did was make its presence known. The girl was still, golden hair spiraling out in a halo framing her pale face. The gash of blood was caked to her forehead, it looked as if it hadn't been bleeding openly for quite some time – odd given that I'd noticed it flowing when I first entered the clearing.

I bent down over the girl, wondering just what in the hell had been going on here. I noticed her breathing begin to slow and stood up quickly, holding my wand out before me. I couldn't think of what to do; based on what it looked like the wound on her forehead shouldn't have been killing her. And yet her breath was becoming progressively shallower with every passing moment.

Before I had the chance to act, I felt a hand clasp my shoulder in a grip that I could not shake. I attempted to spin and cast a spell in the direction of my new assailant, but I when I caught sight of my attacker's face I stopped myself.

It was Martin, his large hand gripping my shoulder tightly. There was a grim expression on his face and before I could speak I noticed a shadowy figure appearing beside us both in a way that I really couldn't comprehend, almost as if I was seeing it more in my mind than in real space, and there was the faint hint of a card outline surrounding him.. This figure, a large man, was reaching out towards us, his hand clasping Martin's.

And then suddenly we were there with him. As if from nothing we had been pulled into another place entirely. The two of us appeared in a start next to this man – who was now quite solid.

The room was dark and dimly lit, massive in size – as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts but with none of the amenities. The only source of light I could see was a faint glow emanating from the center of the room – I could not tell what it was. We had landed in a corner, and I was immediately grabbed by this new man and pushed roughly on to a low stool that was directly behind where I'd landed. I could barely see him in the darkness, but from what I could see I knew build was solid, his arms were large and his jaw rigid and strong. His piercing blue eyes shone through the darkness as I studied him in the quick moment I had before they started speaking.

"Benedict," Martin almost whispered, "what are we doing here? Why would you choose this location –"

The man, Benedict, responded quickly in a low, distinguished tone, "There's no better place for keeping things quiet. Nobody comes down here unless they have good reason, and at the moment none of the others besides Random are here. And as you can guess he's otherwise occupied. "

Martin nodded. Benedict suddenly turned to face me, drawing a large and polished sword from a scabbard slung around his waist. He pointed it in my direction and spoke harshly.

"Who are you?"

I looked down at the blade and then back up to him. I was silent for a moment before I response, "Harry Potter. Who are you?"

Martin gave Benedict a bemused look, but the other man did not waver. Without answering my question, the man continued. "Where are you from?"

I sighed and decided I really ought to talk. I didn't really seem to have any other choice. "I've told Martin. I'm from London. But you've probably never heard of it either."

Benedict looked at me strangely for a moment. "I know it."

He paused, and in that moment I began to finally think clearly. Once again I was in an unknown place and had appeared there through an unknown means of transportation – although I guessed it had something to do with the Trumps, given the outline of a playing card that had flashed in front of me for the briefest of moments, but I had no idea how it had been worked. Was it similar to apparition?

I chided myself for focusing so much on the method of travel. I was sitting alone being interrogated by a man who seemed very dangerous and very on edge. He also happened to be pointing a sword in my direction, seemingly ready to skewer me on a moment's notice.

I had my wand, at the very least, but I would wait to use that until it became necessary. I wondered why they hadn't thought to take it from me, but then again Benedict wouldn't know about it and depending on what Martin had seen it was very possible that he didn't understand what it was. While the two had clearly used a magical method of transportation, there had been no other signs of magic use from the two men.

But I had to ask questions. I had to know where I was, who these people were. I finally opened my mouth to speak.

"Where am I? I think it's a fair question to ask, seeing as how I've just been abducted and am now sitting here at sword point without any idea of what I've done wrong."

At this Martin spoke. "I came upon you surrounded by a ring of mushrooms and bent over the corpse of a young girl. Would that be reason enough?"

I shook my head. "She wasn't dead! And it certainly wasn't me who put her in that circle, I'd just come across her. Hell, there was a huge beast, dead now though. If she's dead, it's your fault for leaving her there. And now you're wasting your time with me while she's out there dying!"

"There's nothing to be done," Martin said brusquely. "We'd never get back to her in time anyway, even if we could find her."

"Why couldn't you just go back there in the same way we got here?"

This time Martin was the one shaking his head. "The Trumps don't work that way, Harry."

Benedict took a step forward and lowered his sword slightly. "You say your name is Harry. Tell me, do you have any memory of this place? This room?"

I simply shook my head as I glanced around at my surroundings once again. "But you're ignoring my questions. I'm not just going to sit here quietly while you question me about this madness. I can't waste time, I have to get home."

Martin continued to ignore me. He looked at Benedict and shrugged. "Could it be a case like that of Corwin's?"

Benedict held up the hand not holding the sword to silence the other man and gazed at me with a most penetrating look. "And you mean to tell me that you have no knowledge of the Pattern?"

I, in turn, ignored his question.

"Speak." He said harshly.

I shook my head, but relented. "No. I haven't."

Benedict looked at me gravely, then, and took another step forward. His face inched close to mine and I instinctively tried to pull back and put some distance between the two of us.

"Then how is it, Harry Potter, that you are able to walk through Shadow?"

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That's the chapter, sorry for the slow update rate, but you should be seeing the next full chapter within the week, as it has mostly already been written. Thanks for reading, and as always, review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So here's the third chapter. There's not been much response to this fic so far, but that's fine. This is a niche fic at best, of that I'm well aware. But hopefully the action will pick up for you guys soon, so keep at it! As always, Read and Review.

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**CHAPTER THREE**

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I looked at the man, Benedict, strangely. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I really have no idea what you mean."

Benedict and Martin exchanged glances. There was a moment of pause before Benedict turned back to me and narrowed his eyes.

"I think you're lying."

"I'm really not."

"It shouldn't be possible to shift through shadow without knowing what you're doing. Especially without having walked the Pattern."

I sighed and went through my mind. For the life of me I really couldn't decipher just what in the hell they were talking about. The Pattern? Shifting through shadow? It didn't make sense.

"This doesn't make sense," I said, stating what seemed obvious to me.

Martin shook his head and pulled a stool close. He sat down and faced me directly.

"Harry. You really don't know where you are?"

I shook my head, but didn't respond further. Martin looked me directly in the eyes.

"Harry. The reason Benedict here is holding you at swordpoint – the reason I brought you here in the first place – is that I've trailed you since the moment we met. And while I watched you and followed you, I witnessed you doing something that only a very select number of people can do."

I looked at him oddly, trying to think of what might have set him off. Was it my use of magic? That was the only thing I could think of.

"Harry," Martin continued, "I watched you shift through Shadow. I watched you move from place to place, world to world, in a manner that shouldn't be possible."

"Unless you're one of us." Benedict interrupted.

My mind was buzzing. They both looked deadly serious, but I couldn't believe or even comprehend what they were saying. I spoke then, quietly.

"What is shadow? How could I be doing something like shifting through worlds without knowing I was doing it?"

Benedict spoke then, in his low but smooth tones, "Shadow is the stuff that makes up most of the universe and seemingly the entire world you've seen and inhabited. Shadow as a whole is made up of an infinite number of reflections, splaying out from here to the Courts of Chaos. One could travel for many, many lifetimes and never even experience a thousandth of what exists in shadow. And for those who understand and who have the knowledge and the ability and the blood, Shadow is essentially whatever you wish it to be."

I thought for a moment in silence. "You said that Shadow is a reflection. But a reflection of what?"

"Amber," Martin said, "the one true world to which everything else is but shadow."

"And the only people able to manipulate shadow, to walk and create their own path, are those who are members of the royal family – sons or daughters of Amber – who have walked the Pattern and harnessed its power."

"Initiates of the Logrus in Chaos also have this ability." Martin interjected.

"Chaos?" I inquired.

Benedict ignored us both and continued to speak. "And the Pattern lies right in this room alongside you. The glow you see – that's the Pattern."

I nodded softly. "I haven't walked any Pattern. How could I be moving through shadow?"

"We don't know." Martin answered. "It doesn't make sense. Even if you were a son of Amber or Chaos, which you may well be, you shouldn't be able to traverse the worlds without knowledge of it."

I went silent. In truth I was sitting there sort of gobsmacked, for lack of a better word. Thoughts were whirring through my mind and slipping out again as soon as they'd occurred. It was simply too much to be introduced to so quickly.

"So Shadow," I started, "isn't real? The world I come from isn't… real?"

Benedict looked thoughtful. "I once heard Corwin speak at length on the subject. Corwin – my brother – spent a large amount of time on your shadow Earth, it seems – and he held a strong conviction that places in shadow, while reflections of the true world and quite easy to manipulate, are still inhabited by real people – their deaths are real death. The nature of shadow versus substance is fluid and hard to define in any terms. To die in Shadow is to die anywhere. That much is certain."

"What makes this place, Amber, different?"

"One cannot simply slip through substance just as one can't walk through walls. Amber is real, solid. Amber is the true world – everything else is a reflection of some aspect of this place in which you sit. There are close shadows and then there are those far away – some so far that they may seem unrecognizable. Amber represents the Pattern, which represents Order and the universe itself. There's much more to the world than what you see."

I interrupted, "But the Pattern lets you understand."

Martin nodded. "The Pattern gives you a certain understanding, yes. Although Corwin discovered much more than I, he could discuss it at far more length than I am able to. Walking the Pattern is a challenge, that much is sure – I still remember that moment myself when I reached the center and felt for the first time the power of my blood flowing through my veins. From that spot one can go anywhere in Shadow, the Pattern has the power to send you anywhere you can imagine."

While Martin was speaking a hazy look appeared in Benedict's eyes. I watched him while I listened and noted that he appeared to be holding a conversation. Once again, I assumed it was via trump. As Martin finished he looked over to Benedict, whose voice under his breath had become rushed and hurried. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying. There was a pause while we both waited for Benedict to speak.

Benedict looked up. "Martin, your father wishes to speak with Harry."

Martin looked confused. "How does he even know about him?"

I watched as Benedict shrugged. "I couldn't say. It sometimes seems he's become almost as omnipotent as Oberon in the old days."

I cleared my throat and they both turned to me.

"I hate to do this, guys, but I've really got to be going. I need to get back home, my friends are in danger and I need to get back to help. They'll be worried about me, looking for me, and apparently they'll have literally no way to find me."

Martin frowned. "Harry. It'd be better if you stay here. Random, my father, will want to meet you. There's a whole host of questions he'll have and we need to know just how it is you traveled through Shadow. If you can do it, others might also be able to. That could present a real danger. It's a matter of security; we can't allow you to leave."

One thing occurred to me then. These people had absolutely no reason to care about who I was. They knew I could travel through Shadow. And despite what Benedict had said I couldn't imagine that they cared for Shadow even a tenth of the way they cared for Amber. It wouldn't matter to them if Voldemort won. It wouldn't matter to them if the entire wizarding world disappeared. To them it didn't really exist in the first place.

I decided then and there that even if I was in some way related to these people, Amber was just a place to me, something I'd never even heard of. Hogwarts was my home, and I couldn't abandon it to wait here in as far away a place you could get.

I fiddled with my wand and judged my chances with them. Benedict had relaxed his sword and held it down at his side. Martin seemed unarmed, or at least he was not displaying a weapon. I could hit at least one of them before anything could be done – Benedict for certain – and then make a break for it. Not that I knew where I was… but I had to do something.

Benedict looked at me with something akin to pity. "I understand your frustration, Harry. There is a place in shadow very dear to me as well. It would be hard for me to leave it alone in a time of war. But this is Amber. Now that you're here, how can you think of going anywhere else?"

I smiled darkly. "You'll have to excuse me – all I've seen of this grand city is a dungeon."

Martin scowled. "All you've seen is the Pattern – the most important part of the most important city."

"Looks a bit like a dungeon to me."

Martin sighed and turned away in frustration.

This was my moment.

I leapt from my seat and shouted "_STUPEFY!_" swinging my wand in Benedict's direction.

Nothing happened.

That couldn't be good.

Martin swung back in my direction and Benedict jumped back and lifted his sword into an _en garde _position.

I paused as they looked at me, a bit confused but also very on edge. In the moment, I made the only decision available to me.

I ran. And I ran towards the only thing I could think of.

The Pattern.

Martin had said that the Pattern, in its center, could transport you anywhere you wanted to go. He'd said it was a challenge, but I couldn't imagine it being worse than several things I'd gone through in my lifetime. So I would walk it and I'd transport myself home. They were pursuing, but they wouldn't reach me in time to prevent my starting. The plan was foolproof.

Until I took that first step onto the Pattern and off of the safe and solid ground.

Small flames flew from the new ground I tread upon. The path was outlined by blue-white sparks, and with my first step I felt a current run through my body.

I could hear shouting behind me, but it was strangely muted. I was not about to turn back now. I surveyed the Pattern as it lay out before me. The line was long and curved, inlaid upon itself over and over again, with long sloping curves. As I took my first steps, following those sparks, I came to the realization that where I to set foot away from the Pattern without completing it I would most certainly perish. I don't know where this information came from – I just suddenly knew.

I hit the first curve and took ten more paces before I felt the first hints of resistance – almost like walking through a thick fog, but one that pushed back just the slightest bit. I moved several more paces forward before hitting what seemed like a wall – substance that pushed back at me with every step I took. I was almost halted, but determined I strode against the resistance. I fought it. I felt sparks course through my body and leap from my hair and arms. I concentrated on the line before me and made to move forward – sweat dripped from my forehead.

And then it lifted. The pressure faded and I walked forward.

That was the First Veil. Another thing I knew simply by knowing it. As I moved forward along the lines and curves of the Pattern, moments from my past flashed before me – images of friends, of Ron and Hermione, images of Voldemort laughing.

I was well into the Pattern, I was also very disoriented. I could not tell in which direction I was facing or where I had begun. All I could do was follow the line laid out in sparks before me as it twisted back upon itself.

I came to a straight line and felt a force leap up to challenge me – nothing material, but substance like I'd faced previously only far stronger – my head split and my boots were laced with fire. Every step was a minor miracle; I could feel my scar throbbing violently in protest.

The Second Veil.

There was a right-angle turn and then several more. Another curve, my heart threatened to burst. And then the pain vanished and I was free from resistance once again.

I'd passed the second test the Pattern offered.

My head ached still and my breath was labored. My pace had slowed to a crawl and I dreaded what was to come – there was no clear end in sight.

But I pressed onwards. I had no other choice.

Ten more paces – fires swirled about me and the Pattern and seemed ready to engulf me completely. I continued to step, my body was wracked but I had no other choice – there was no going back.

I turned on to the Grand Curve and felt the universe bending me and breaking me and I felt myself become more aware of the world than I'd even been. I marched forward beyond the curve through several more angles and twists and turns – ten in a row which left me dizzy – and suddenly I was in agony.

The Final Veil.

Agony was all I could remember. It felt as if all I'd known was pain on an order beyond imagination. Primal forces were batting at me and it was all I could do to not be blown aside.

I would not falter; I simply could not allow it. Sparks showered above me and I felt the weight of the world quite literally force itself in front of me. I stepped –

And it was done.

I did it.

I turned around and looked over what I'd done.

I stood for a moment and thought. I could literally go anywhere I could imagine. The entirety of the world and all of Shadow was open to me. I felt myself – I was almost seduced by that power.

And then I remembered Hogwarts. And I knew where I had to be. I took a deep breath.

Then I was gone.

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The familiar corridors were dark and empty as I looked around at the place where I'd appeared.

Hogwarts. At last.

I tried to calculate how long I'd been gone for. It couldn't have been more than a week. I drew my wand silently and moved down the corridor. If the Pattern had sent me exactly where I'd imagined, I'd be situated two floors below the Gryffindor common room. I'd wanted to appear somewhere non-descript and out of the way. I assumed that tensions would be running high given the recent attack, and I didn't want to risk someone pulling a wand on me for appearing out of nowhere.

It was night, though, that much I can tell. There was a slight breeze passing through the hall and I began to walk towards the common room. My steps echoed on the hard ground as I walked up the flight of stairs. I listened for any signs of activity but heard none.

I sighed a little bit. It was almost surreal being back. I pictured Martin and Benedict and the Pattern in my mind – it almost felt like a dream.

But the Pattern in my mind told me it wasn't. I'd beaten the thing, and a part of it would remain in me always. Just another bit of information I somehow knew without knowing. I wondered how they were reacting. Were they out looking for me? Would Martin try to track me through Shadow?

And then there was the fact that Benedict seemed aware of London and my home at least vaguely. They might know where to look.

As I walked, I considered the wand held in my hand. My magic hadn't worked in Amber – or at least in such proximity to the Pattern. Why was that?

Was my magic the stuff of Shadow, unable to mix with the real thing? That could end up as a problem were I ever to return.

But I had to put Amber out of my mind. I had to focus on my home and my friends and Voldemort. Firstly, I had to find out what had happened after I fled.

I quickened my pace and came to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was snoozing lightly as I approached and I rapped lightly on the surface of the painting in an attempt to wake her.

She opened her eyes just slightly and spoke, "Password?"

I spoke the phrase and waited for the portal to swing open, but the Fat Lady just shook her head.

"Sorry dear."

I sighed heavily and turned away. Of course they'd changed the password. There'd been an attack – they'd have to ramp up security. I thought about my next course of action. It was extremely unlikely that Dumbledore would be in his office, although I'd certainly need to talk to him soon.

I flicked my wand and the time appeared above me in slight glowing phantoms. It really was late - getting near to four in the morning. I tramped down the hall somewhat in a daze. I was tired, I'd undergone an incredible ordeal walking the Pattern, and I really needed sleep.

I walked for a while before I finally found myself outside the corridor that housed the Room of Requirement. I smiled lightly – I hadn't even thought about it, but this was the perfect place. I paced back and forth and entered through the newly materialized doorway.

It was a simple construct, with a comfy looking bed and plush couches decorating the room. I wasted no time in collapsing on the bed. I was asleep within moments.

I awoke the next day somewhat disoriented.

I shook my head to clear away the morning's fog. Dreams I was already beginning to forget batting around in my mind, I stood up and stepped to the door. I opened it and looked around.

There was still nobody around, although at least there was light. For lack of a better idea I trudged towards the Great Hall, still wiping sleep from my eyes. I came to the great wooden doors and pushed them open.

The Great Hall was empty.

I gazed up at the enchanted ceiling and noticed that a heavy snow was apparently falling, something that seemed odd given the time of season – it was only November after all.

Taking another step forward I surveyed the space and wondered just what the hell was going on. The four main tables had been swept to towards the walls on both sides, replaced by a single long table situated in the center of the hall.

I stood there for a few moments, quite confused, before I shrugged and turned back to the corridor from which I'd come.

I strode towards my new destination, trying to order my experience into some sort of logical flow for retelling. Professor Dumbledore would want to know specifics, this all could be very important. Or at least something of a side note.

The way to the Headmaster's office was barred by the two Gargoyles as per usual. I tried several of the typical password possibilities but none seemed to be working. Eventually I resorted to testing out muggle candies, and the Gargoyles finally leapt aside as I pronounced "Rock Candy". Bizarre.

Shrugging, I ascended the staircase and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

I knocked again, this time a bit more forcefully.

There was still no reply. I tried the handle but found it locked. A simple _Alohamora _wouldn't do the trick either. I turned away, not wanting to try anything more serious. It was Dumbledore's office, after all.

Tramping down the stairs I was at a loss. What could I do? Hogwarts seemed totally empty, I'd yet to see a soul. I looked around as I once again walked the empty halls of the school, searching for any sign of life.

And then a thought occurred to me – the Owlery. I quickened my pace and soon found myself climbing the ladder that lead the birds that could carry a message to Ron – if he was in the castle he'd get it quickly, if not at least I could tell him where I was.

Not that I had any ink or parchment…

Sighing, I doubled back to the first classroom I could find and snatched some paper and a quill. Sitting at one of the empty desks I scribbled out a quick note.

_Ron,_

_I'm back, I'm at Hogwarts, and there doesn't seem to be anybody here. Where are you?_

_I'll explain where I was when I see you in person. Don't worry, I'm not hurt. Write me back as soon as you get this. _

_Harry_

I nodded, satisfied at the brevity of the writing – Ron would take it seriously – and headed back to the Owlery. Once there I tied it to the nearest owl and sent it flying through the air. I watched it as it went and noted that it was definitely not doubling back towards any place at Hogwarts.

So Ron wasn't at the school. Why not?

Worried, I headed back to the Room of Requirement, which I figured could act as a safe haven for some time, certainly. I didn't think it could provide food or drink, but there were always the kitchens for that. At the very worst, there was always Hogsmeade.

Once back inside the room, which now appeared to me in the form of a small but cozy study, I sat in one of the plush chairs provided and allowed myself to think.

It was snowy. It was evidently quite cold, hence the snow. The castle was empty.

It sounded like the holidays to me. But that didn't make any sense – I'd left only a week ago. The only other alternatives I could think of were grim indeed. But if that were true, it would mean that I'd actually been gone for almost an entire month instead of the few days I'd thought.

Which didn't make sense. Not that anything else I'd come across while lost was any more sensible…

This notion of shifting through Shadow kept coming back to me. I'd never done it consciously, but I'd walked the Pattern, which meant that I was certainly capable of it. In fact, I even understood the basic principles behind it – thanks once again to the Pattern. But I'd no experience with it.

But why not try? What harm could it do?

I stood up from the chair and left the room. I walked down the corridors through the Great Hall and finally found myself facing the giant doors that led to the grounds. Breathing deeply, I pushed open the doors and ventured out into the cold.

And it was definitely cold. I quickly cast a warming charm on my shirt – a long sleeved garment that would definitely not be considered trendy (I still had one what Dara had given me) – and began to walk.

As I did, I began to picture in my mind a large oak beside the lake. And when the lake indeed came into view, there it was. Smiling, I began to slowly shape the rest of the world around me, gradually moving from the grounds of Hogwarts to the grounds of the Burrow just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole.

I went slowly, I didn't want to rush. I didn't trust my intuitive ability so much that I'd be willing to risk attempting to shift all in one go. So the thing was gradual, and I felt myself reshaping the world around me, walking through Shadows that were no longer my own in an attempt to reach my destination.

It took me more than an hour of slowly shifting and holding the place sharply in my mind while I went, but finally I was there. I stood outside the makeshift house and the snow covered hill upon which the Burrow was situated.

I was sweating, too, despite the cold. The shifting seemed to have taken a lot out of me. I started towards the door and as I did I noticed an owl hooting above me as it clattered at one of the upstairs windows.

I snorted. It was my own owl, I recognized it. I'd almost beaten it there. I smiled to myself and knocked on the door with a closed fist. A moment passed and I knocked again.

I could hear a rustling behind the door before a voice shouted out from behind the solid oak frame.

"Who is it?"

"It's me. Harry!" I replied.

There was another rustle, and I could hear whispers that were just too quiet to make out.

"Prove it!" Another voice shouted, a voice which I recognized belonged to one of the twins, either Fred or George, I wasn't sure which.

I thought for a moment.

"How would you like me to do that?"

Another pause from inside, and then, "Cast your Patronus!"

A small slot in the door opened up and a pair of eyes peeked out. With a sigh, I drew my wand and spoke, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A white silvery stag erupted from my wand and I heard sighs of relief from the other side of the door. It opened for me.

And suddenly, something occurred to me that I really should have thought about before.

Did I really want to tell them everything about Amber? Should I tell them anything? The whole notion of Shadow versus Substance was one that could cause a real questioning of life and/or the point of living.

Then there was the more likely take – it'd be stunning if they actually believed me. Hell, I hardly believed it myself, and I'd just proven the veracity of it by shifting a bit through Shadow. I held the image of the Pattern in my mind and thought for a moment.

As I entered the familiar building filled with warm and encouraging faces all inquiring as to where I'd been and what had happened, I made a decision.

I wouldn't tell them anything about Amber.

* * *

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So there's that! Drop me a line, tell me what ya think.


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